


Dearest Nora

by LogThatData



Category: Batman (Comics), DC - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Goodbyes, Hope, Letters, Villains to Heroes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-03-02 21:23:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13326639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LogThatData/pseuds/LogThatData
Summary: Mr Freeze is dying, but his beloved Nora is still alive. He has entrusted the Wayne Foundation with taking care of his wife and making sure she's defrosted when a cure is found for her sickness. Because he is sure he won't be alive when she is healed, he starts to write letters to her, explaining why he won't be there for her when she is thawed again.





	1. In Which I Am Dead

**Author's Note:**

> [Read this like an Elseworlds story, I'm not pretending this is canon.]

Dearest Nora,

 

You are probably confused as to why I am not here to tell you this myself. You will know this by the end of the final letter. I don’t know how many there will be, as I am not used to writing much more than scientific reports anymore, but I will try my best to help you understand.

It all started a few years ago when you fell ill. You probably remember lying in your hospital bed, but I couldn’t bear to see you as pained as you were then. I worked feverishly on a machine that could keep you safe until a cure was found, and when the hospital was close to giving up, I put you in this machine.

As I’m writing this, I can see you in the chamber just as beautiful as you were when I met you. You look so at peace, not knowing all the things I have done. I told myself I was doing them for you, I did everything for you, but now I’ve come to ask myself what the point of it all was. All I was acting on was a feeling of utmost uselessness. I couldn’t do anything to heal you myself, and all I did for hours on end was standing in front of this chamber and soliloquy about how perfect you are and how I would save you.

How can I ask you to be proud of me, to love me, when I’ve done the very things you always denounced? I stooped to theft, to destruction, to murder, all to keep you alive. I know you wouldn’t have wanted this, and I cannot live with myself like this anymore. I won’t keep myself alive any longer after having written these letters to you.

You deserve a life with freedom and love and I cannot give you that life. I have failed you. Nora. The only thing I ask of you is that you do not utterly hate me after having read these letters. That is all I will need to rest in peace.

What good is all this stolen money if it doesn’t help me find a cure for you? I can afford to keep the machine running, I can afford to upgrade these ~~tools~~ weapons I’ve made, but how can I let you merely survive? This is no way for anyone to exist, let alone you, Nora, the one person who has kept me from going insane all these years. Although now I realize it was my love and what turned into the obsession that made me turn into what I am today.

I fear, Nora, that you will never be able to speak my name again. If that will be what it takes for you to survive and be happy, then so be it. 

I am certain that the Wayne Foundation will tell you what I did under my alias. "Mr Freeze" I was called, as I misappropriated the same technology to keep you safe to harm others. I don't remember when I turned from petty theft to larger delicts, but by then, I was long gone. I remember freezing an entire house to get to the money they had hidden in their vault. It broke down. I heard the screams as I saw Batman, a masked vigilante dressed as a bat, swoop in to save as many as possible, but he couldn't save anywhere near all of them. He chased me down into an alleyway as I ran from him. I knew I couldn't let him catch me, I had to get back to you, but there was a part of me that wanted to stop and hand myself in. I couldn't handle the thought of what you would think of me, but I told myself I was doing this for you and kept running, shooting the occasional freeze blast at Batman. That's how it always went. The same supervillain nonsense to get people afraid, but the stakes got higher and higher with every heist. People died. I can't live with the thought of that anymore.

Eventually, I had to confront the Batman, too. I thought up sneaky lines and acted like he had fallen into my trap when what I had really wanted was a quick getaway. Then it started to be fun. I actively searched opportunities to start setting traps and fooling the Batman and his protegés, slowly but surely becoming what I was pretending to be. I took hostages. I threatened. I even murdered. How can I tell anyone that that was all for you? You would never have wanted any of this for me. If you had seen me devolving from the man you loved into this thing I am now, you would set me straight. That was how I stayed true to myself, through all the problems I faced, I trusted you to get me back on my path.

You once told me, when I recounted how I had built the machine you stayed in, that it would make you look like the Frankenstein monster. I have since come to realize the irony in that statement.

 

Your Victor


	2. In Which There Is Still Hope

Dearest Nora,

If you’re reading this, you haven’t completely given up on me yet. I thank you.

 

The event that set everything in motion leading up to me writing these letters was started by the Joker. The Joker is a madman that looks like a clown, doing things because they’re funny, especially if they hurt the Batman. If you're lucky (or perhaps rather unlucky) enough to be woken up and healed within the next year, you'll probably still see some of his actions on television. Otherwise, be glad that you didn't have the chance to make his acquaintance. The countless things he has tried to get his barriers down are surprisingly creative, but also indescribably gruesome. He crippled the commissioner’s daughter, he acted like he chopped off the faces of everyone close to the Batman, he brutally killed one of his protégés.

In another one of his many plots to stand toe-to-toe with the Batman, he proposed that a group of five other supervillains and I should work together with him to weaken him. The first person to leave the table was Clayface. He said that Bane had already done the same thing and managed to break the Batman.

Bane was a monster of a man, who like me, let his obsession take him much too far. His obsession, however, was the Batman. His drug, ironically called Venom, was the only thing keeping him alive. In that sense, you were the drug keeping me alive, too. If you had died I there’s no telling what I would have done to the guilty party and to myself.  
As soon as Clayface said the word Bane, Joker was already reaching for his gun. Despite having the same goal, many of Batman’s self-proclaimed nemeses end up fighting each other instead of fighting him. Joker shot his gun directly at Clayface’s head, knowing very well that the shot would do nothing. He got up and left the table, leaving us with six people sitting around the long table.

The others agreed with the Joker’s plan, myself included. Each of us was to set up a series of traps, each more nefarious than the last that each only served to weaken the Batman and slow him down, so that by the time he reached the Joker, he would be both physically and mentally weakened. I prepared the traps like I was told to and laid them ready just the way I wanted them to be, making sure that they couldn’t kill him, but could seriously maim. We all knew that killing the Batman meant that we died and no matter how far gone I was, I still couldn’t let myself die, for your sake. That was at least what I told myself.

Like every time when we set these traps, the Batman got through them with ease. Even his protégé, called Robin, a kid who dresses up in a colourful bodysuit with a yellow R marked on his chest, made it through barely unscathed. This left the Joker furious and in such a rage that he personally came knocking. He had another job for us. He had an offer that we simply couldn’t refuse, mainly because he would kill all we had dear if we refused to participate. I didn’t know if he knew about you, Nora, but I couldn’t risk it. At the same time, however, I still loved the rush. What I felt while doing all the terrible things I did, it could almost be described as sadism. Now, however, I look back with sadness and regret. Shame cannot even begin to describe what it makes me feel.

The Joker’s new plan required all five of us other than the Joker to work together, which is arguably not one of our strong points. In the end, however, Onomatopoeia, the Mad Hatter, the Calendar Man, the Penguin, Two-Face, and I were forced to pool our strengths together. Every single one of us had a clear way of doing things and none of them was remotely the same. The Penguin became the leader of our small group, which was an easy choice, as none of the others trusted me, nor Two-Faces coin, whereas Onomatopoeia and the Calendar Man didn’t speak more than a small set of words and the Mad Hatter spoke too much. The only downside of the Penguin was that he was too public, but it’s always easy for a man with money to do what he wants.

Surprisingly, we managed to hatch a plan. It would make no sense to fight the Batman or ambush him, to try to beat him at his own game, instead, we only needed to lead him to the Joker. The Joker told us that the meeting point was in an abandoned amusement park, which is why we decided to take the Batman on a trip with us through a tunnel on a gondola. All we needed to do was talk to him, distract him, fill his head with grandiose villainous monologues and not let him escape. Onomatopeia and the Calendar Man were tasked only with helping us guide him by being on the gondola with us, as added menacing presence always helps the feeling of evil theatricality, the feeling that something is at stake. There’s something utterly unnerving about hearing the same “splash” and “creak” in the same tone of voice in a very strict rhythm.

You would have liked that amusement park. The two of us alone, sitting in a boat together, drifting slowly down a stream while we simply talk as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist, because in those moments, it doesn’t.

 

Your Victor


	3. In Which I Turn Back

Dearest Nora,

I want to believe that you have you kept reading up to this point. The last thing keeping me alive is the need to explain everything to you.

 

I ended the last letter explaining the gondola trip we were tasked to take the Batman on, however, on reading it again, I feel I must better explain why this was such a difficult feat. On every other occasion, we would have used every excuse to face the Batman and take him down, but on this very special occasion, we needed only accompany him to the Joker, to make sure that there was enough time to prepare everything. He arrived with his protégé in tow, the brightly-dressed young boy that had taken the alias of “Robin” I mentioned in my previous letter. Why he would choose such a colourful costume to fight alongside a man completely clad in black is still beyond me, although I doubt that the boy had much of a say in this. Rumor has it that there has been more than one Robin, although no one can tell for sure.

Once the Batman arrived, he found three of us waiting at the door. He was ready to fight, and clearly had prepared a speech. “You won’t get away this time,” he said, readying one of his bat-shaped projectiles.

I spoke out before he could attack: “We are not here to fight you this time, Batman. The man who does is waiting inside. Come with us.”

Batman motioned for his protégé to stay behind, and despite the latter’s protests, the boy did as he was told. I am eternally glad for this. At least someone’s death could be averted this way. The Batman joined us as we slowly opened the door, Onomatopoeia mimicking the shambling noises the decades-old door sang. The lights chimed on as the door slammed, on cue, and they began to silently flicker as Two-Face took five carefully measured places towards the Batman, then beckoned him to follow. The coin flip had declared that he would be cooperative, and so Dent did as he was told. This was the point where my task changed.

It was now my duty to make sure the boy did not come following his mentor, and it was not a difficult duty to fulfil. It seemed to me that Robin had taken Batman’s advice, although I was not sure whether to believe the lack of sound to mean a lack of problems. The student was as smart as his teacher, packed with youthful speed and ingenuity to boot. A formidable opponent for even the best of us, only lacking in brute strength and experience. I felt that something was up, so I turned my back to the door and walked towards the others. That was my first mistake.

On hearing sounds behind me, I turned around again and saw a shadow moving towards the wooden pillars in the sides of the room. I heard a sawing noise and I began to panic. Surely, the boy wasn’t suicidal! I ran towards the pillar, making sure to ready my freeze gun but also be prepared to talk. I was not going to let someone so young throw away their life so easily by following the Batman to his death. That was my second mistake.

When I reached the pillar, I saw that there was nothing there, purely one of those bat-shaped projectiles that the Batman seems to be so fond of. I picked it up, stashed it away, and then turned around again. I did not believe what I had seen, and instead trusted on my blind faith that the boy would not be stupid enough to run after the Batman. That was my third mistake.

I felt a kick against my back and fell to the floor. My head knocked against the sides of my helmet and I could feel a faint throbbing as I slowly began to turn around and look up. I saw a flash of yellow and red run by, then slowly making its way towards the ceiling. Jump by jump a step closer towards his death. That was his first mistake.

I felt myself doze to sleep but I knew that I would never wake up if that happened, so I slowly pushed myself up and began to walk towards the others. I needed to warn the Batman that Robin was coming and was going to get himself killed, too. Despite my sick need for the Batman to finally die so I could move on with my life, I did not see his protégé as part of the equation.

I slowly stumbled towards the door that Two-Face had led the others through, and found myself waiting for a gondola to pass by. The minute and twenty-three seconds felt like an eternity, and it was then that I decided I was going to help the Wayne Foundation work on a cure for you. If any organisation had the money and technology to help you survive, it was them, but I was always so sure I could do it myself. It was always a matter of needing one more thing for the next test, but countless tests failed, and countless materials became obsolete. I found myself in a downwards spiral deep past petty theft into grand larceny, towards assault, and eventually, to murder. Although I might know better now – Much too late for any sense of repentance or possible forgiveness – it took me years to see what I had become, despite constantly seeing a part of my reflection in my helmet.

As I stepped into the gondola, all I could do was hope. Hope that I would be on time; hope that the Batman had not reached the Joker yet; hope that _Robin_ had not reached the Joker yet.

But the time to warn the Batman did not come. I glimpsed the light at the end of the tunnel accompanied by an all too familiar laugh. At that moment, I was many things, but not on time.

 

Your Victor


End file.
